


Tether

by Pholo



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: BDSM aftercare, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm already back on my cuddling bullshit y'all, Juno doesn't know what aftercare is and Peter is rightly CONCERNED, No actual sex, Other, allusions to bad BDSM practices (with Diamond), what can I say...I have to uphold The Brand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pholo/pseuds/Pholo
Summary: “Did…” Nureyev seems to search for the right way to phrase his next question. Finally he says, “Did your previous partners…not lie with you like this, after a scene?”Juno’s mind flashes to the smooth plane of Diamond’s back, lit by the slatted window of their apartment. Sometimes they’d clean up, curl up under the covers, and fall asleep before Juno could snap out of his stupor. Other days they’d wait for him at the kitchen table. It was a bit of a ritual: Juno would come down from the high, clean up, and meet them for some tea or a snack.In the present, Juno shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, uh. No? Maybe a couple times. Why would they?”Something like fear crosses Nureyev’s face. “Juno. Do you know what aftercare is?”
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 32
Kudos: 565





	Tether

**Author's Note:**

> Aftercare preferences would normally be discussed before a scene, but…eh.

Juno’s mind is a million miles away. He feels how white noise looks.

Hands leave Juno’s chest. Juno traps a needy noise behind his teeth as Nureyev slips off the bed.

He hates this part. Hates the blanket of numbness that swathes his brain. Hates coming back to himself one layer at a time, lost and alone and disgusting atop the mussed covers of an empty bed. But hey—Juno gets it. He wouldn’t want to hang around him either. He’s not exactly great company, zoned out and pathetic like this.

In his limited awareness Juno wonders whether Nureyev will come back to bed later, once Juno has made himself remotely presentable. He hopes so. In that awful fuzzy way Juno wants to apologize to Nureyev. He always feels apologetic after these sorts of scenes—like he wasn’t good enough.

The sheets scrunch as Juno curls in on himself. He lies there and waits to stop trembling.

Out of nowhere, fingertips settle on his shoulder. Juno starts. He looks up—and there’s Nureyev, still naked and perched over Juno on the bed. He’s armed with a cloth.

“May I?” he asks quietly, and gestures to Juno’s crotch.

Juno frowns, confused. But he nods. Nureyev searches his face for a second, like maybe he doubts the truth of Juno’s permission. Then he goes ahead and wipes him down.

Juno expects to feel annoyed or embarrassed. He can do this by his damn self, given some time and a couple tissues. But his wires are all tangled up right now, and rather than annoyance he feels a rush of affection. It’s such a considerate gesture—such a _Nureyev_ thing to do, to tidy his partner like this. He cleans Juno to his satisfaction, discards the rag over the edge of the bed, and then asks,

“Would you like some water?”

Juno’s tired mind grapples like a climber on a slippery cliffside. “No thank you,” he says—still politely, because now he’s not sure whether they’ve left the scene.

It occurs to Juno that maybe he wasn’t supposed to say no. He tenses.

Nureyev only stares. His brow furrows. He sidles down onto the bed until he’s side by side with Juno.

“May I hold you?” he murmurs. And then, like he can read Juno’s mind: “You’re allowed to say no. You’re _always_ allowed to say no.”

Juno manages to _pshh_ at him. “I know,” he lies. “And yeah, you can uh. Yeah. Sounds good.”

It sounds more than _good,_ truth be told.Juno’s body strains for the pressure of Nureyev’s arms. Nureyev seems to sense the urgency beneath Juno’s blasé tone. There’s a flash of pillows, and then he gathers Juno to his chest.

Juno’s whole body sags at the contact. The weight of Nureyev’s arms around his back reels his mind back to his body. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he burrows them between his and Nureyev’s chests. The edge of his right hand catches Nureyev’s skin. When Nureyev doesn’t move away, he dares to rest his knuckles atop his left pec. He feels Nureyev’s heartbeat echo back through his tendons.

Juno lets his head fall onto his pillow. He smells the laundry detergent from the bed sheets, and maybe the last traces of Nureyev’s cologne. Juno gives a shuddery sigh. Nureyev’s hand paints slow stripes up and down his back. The trembling gives way to the occasional shiver, then ceases altogether.

It’s like his strings have been cut. Juno doesn’t so much as twitch for what feels like an era. He doesn’t know what possessed Nureyev to get all cuddly like this, but lightning rarely strikes the same ground twice, and he plans to savor the moment while he still can. Juno does his best to memorize every sensation—the patterns Nureyev traces along his back; the slow rise and fall of his chest; the simple, wonderful heat of skin against skin. Once he’s confident he’s built up a catalogue, he musters up his strength.

Even as his mind screams at him to stop, Juno plants his palms on Nureyev’s chest and pushes back from the embrace.

“All right, all right, enough with the cuddle fest.”

Nureyev lets him go. “Would you like to be left alone?”

Juno opens his mouth. Closes it again. The air stings on his skin suddenly.

“I mean,” he settles on at last. “I’m sure you’ve got other stuff to do. You don’t need to lie here with me all night.”

Now Nureyev looks concerned. “I love lying with you, Juno.”

Juno’s not sure how to process that. “Oh.”

“Did…” Nureyev seems to search for the right way to phrase his next question. Finally he says, “Did your previous partners…not lie with you like this, after a scene?”

Juno’s mind flashes to the smooth plane of Diamond’s back, lit by the slatted window of their apartment. Sometimes they’d clean up, curl up under the covers, and fall asleep before Juno could snap out of his stupor. Other days they’d wait for him at the kitchen table. It was a bit of a ritual: Juno would come down from the high, clean up, and meet them for some tea or a snack.

In the present, Juno shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, uh. No? Maybe a couple times. Why would they?”

Something like fear crosses Nureyev’s face. “Juno. Do you know what aftercare is?”

Juno physically aches for Nureyev’s hands. He has to fight not to scoot closer. That knot of shame returns to his chest, and somehow the first word that leaves his mouth is, “Sorry.”

Nureyev’s fingers twitch. He purses his lips. The atmosphere grows heavy, and Juno wonders what he’s done wrong—but then Nureyev says, “You have _nothing_ to apologize for, love.” The words are delivered with such complete sincerity that Juno can’t help but believe them. The pressure around his chest unravels. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he bites his lower lip.

Nureyev reaches out, but his fingers stop before they can brush Juno’s skin. He lets his grip settle on the rumpled covers between them. “You never answered my question, darling. Would you like to be alone right now?”

Juno’s not sure why, but his eye starts to sting. He manages a barely-there head-shake.

“All right. What would you like me to do?”

Juno’s not sure when the tremors returned. He keeps his eye trained on Nureyev’s hand. He swallows, and suddenly his throat hurts. “Just…touch me?”

“Of course.” Nureyev shifts closer on the bed. An arm slings back across Juno’s side. “Of course, darling. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now…”

Juno’s not proud of the noise that leaves his throat. He and Nureyev slot together, Nureyev’s chin propped atop his head. That same heat and heartbeat rise up to meet Juno’s fingers. Nureyev pats around until he finds the blankets. He breaks the hug long enough to pull them up and over Juno’s shoulders, then tucks Juno back against his torso. Words skim over Juno’s ear: _You did so well, Juno. You were perfect._

Juno shivers.Nureyev hugs him with a love that could shake cities—with a possessiveness that kicks up Juno’s heartbeat. It’s like he means to protect him from something.

“Aftercare can take many forms,” Nureyev says after a while. “It can be cuddling like this, or bathing together—perhaps watching a film. Anything that might comfort the sub, and ease the transition between the scene and reality.” Fingers come up to slip through Juno’s hair, and Juno melts against Nureyev’s chest. “It’s to reassure you that I am not the person I played in the scene. That you are all right, and you are safe, and I love you.”

Juno’s fairly sure Nureyev has turned him to silly putty. He’s barely cognizant. “It’s…nice.”

“You’re feeling all right?”

“Mhmm.” Juno can’t imagine himself being anything but.

“Tell me if that changes.” Nureyev cranes his neck to kiss Juno’s temple. It’s an awkward angle.

Juno smiles. He falls asleep still huddled under Nureyev’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow they can have a looong talk about all this but CUDDLING FIRST
> 
> Comments clear my skin and water my crops!


End file.
